


Alone at Abbey Road

by ZodiacFiction



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Loneliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 11:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18716398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZodiacFiction/pseuds/ZodiacFiction
Summary: Paul spends a night alone in Abbey Road contemplating on how and why things got to be the way they were.





	Alone at Abbey Road

**Author's Note:**

> The timeline for this would probably be around 1968 or 69 maybe. When tensions were high for the boys.

This is a work of fiction, not my take on reality. I don't own anything or anyone. Obviously. 

 

 

Paul stood alone in the studio at Abbey Road, the rain was coming down harder than it had ever seemed to before. He stood there, arms crossed, staring out the window. The rain hitting the pavement, the loud thunder cracking, and the dim street lights all made for a rather lonely scene. He leaned his head against the window. Everyone else had left a mere hour ago, but Paul had stayed to make some finishing touches to his song, or so was his excuse. In reality he just wanted some time to reflect, and the studio felt like the right place to do so. 

"How the hell did it come to this?" He thought to himself, eyebrows furrowed on his head 

"How did we go from brothers to this? John hasn't been the same since he met Yoko. I know what he means to her but, why now? I miss John. I need him. I'll never admit it to the bastard but I do. John doesn't need me anymore, I think we both know that. I don't know if I'll ever be able to accept it. When he said he wanted a divorce, I nearly broke down right there and then. I know I will never love another person as I've loved him, no one is his equal. Unfortunately for me." He pulled a chair to the window and sat, took out the bottle of wine he had snuck in earlier and poured himself a glass 

"I haven't really felt close to George since before this beatlemania mess happened, I can see the tension and anger in his eyes. I see the jealousy when John and I do something together. I see the hurt in his eyes when we ignore song he's written or when he makes a suggestion and we blow him off. For the longest time I hadn't realized I was being so harsh. And now that I've finally realized it I feel as though it's too late to repair the damage that's been done. I know he wants to leave. And I don't blame him. But I don't want him to go. I wish he knew that I loved him." he takes another big gulp of the wine, and pours another glass, hoping to at least numb himself a little bit 

"Ringo, where would we be without him. Certainly not where we are today. He's been there for us all since day one, left the biggest band at the time just to be with us, he loved us that much. And what have I given him in return? Shit. I've played over him, overlooked his talent, or used it for my own personal gain. Only let him ever have maybe one song on each album. What kind of a prick am I. He's been nothing but kind to all of us, I can tell he wants to keep it all together as much as I do but I see he's getting tired of being ignored, tired of all the fighting and tension. I just wish I knew what to do." Paul stood up, lifting the wine bottle to his lips and finishing it off with one smooth gulp. He walked to the middle of the studio where they had all left their instruments in plans to return the next morning to finish the song they had been working on. As has hand lightly skimmed over the top strings of John's guitar he was taken back to the late 50s when they used to spend hours in Paul's room practicing chords together and writing lyrics about some bird they were eyeing up the previous morning. He remembered telling George to play for John, and then him being invited to the band. He remembered meeting Ringo for the first time and playing in hamburg, all the dingy rooms, the pills, the screaming, the sex, the tears, touring, everything all came back to him, the good and the bad. And as he remembered he realized that things would never be that way again, they had lived and seen their peak. He sunk down to the floor and put his hands to his face, tears started streaming down his face and he cried quietly, softly. Sitting there on the floor in front of John's guitar. He hugged his knees and let the tears fall, he didn't like to cry but he knew if he didn't let them out now he'd burst in front of the boys and he couldn't have that. He had to keep it all together. He had to. 

After what seemed like ages he had finished, after crying all he had, till there were no more tears left to cry, he laid down on the floor and put his arms behind his head. Staring at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and let himself be at peace, if only for a few minutes at least it was some some sort of release. After realizing how exhausted he was he got up, made his way to the door and while putting on his coat and hat he took one final look at the room, mentally preparing himself for the morning. He turned out the light, locked the door, and left.

**Author's Note:**

> My first Beatles fic so please bear with me. Not good I know but if anyone enjoys this I may write more.


End file.
